


In the Absence of Clouds

by The_Bentley



Series: Five Hundred Word Challenges [10]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Far Future, Foreplay, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Nostalgia, Outer Space, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Rain, Space Stations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: In the far future, Aziraphale misses the clouds of Earth.  Crowley helps ease his nostalgia as they make love.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Five Hundred Word Challenges [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885723
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45
Collections: NTA #10 - GO Events Server - Cumulonimbus





	In the Absence of Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> GO Events Discord Server Name the Author #10. Prompt: Culmulonimbus

_ The far future _

“I miss clouds.” Aziraphale rolled over to gaze out their quarter’s small porthole at the star-flecked darkness. “I miss sunlight. I hate having to depend on the station’s artificial light. Why aren’t you bothered by it?”

“I created stars and spent centuries up here building the cosmos,” Crowley between placing gentle kisses on the nape of Aziraphale’s neck, trailing down his upper spine. “Clouds seem an odd thing to miss.”

Aziraphale rolled back to face his husband, his head nuzzling into his husband’s collarbone. “I miss rain. I always found the sound of it on the roof of the bookshop to be comforting when I listened to it at night while I read.”

“I’m sorry, angel.” Crowley embraced him. “No cumulonimbus clouds here, no rain.”

He kissed along Aziraphale’s neck, licking along his Adam’s apple and ending in the hollow of his neck. Aziraphale shuddered in reply. If his angel wanted to make out during a thunderstorm, then they would make out during a thunderstorm. 

“Computer,” said Crowley. “Sounds of a thunderstorm.”

The gentle sound of rain filtered down upon them, making Aziraphale feel nostalgic. He still marvelled at how far technology had come even he wasn’t a participant in it. He had found a level he was comfortable at and there he stayed. Sighing with contentment he returned Crowley’s eager kisses as thunder rumbled across their quarters sounding just like the real thing back on Earth. They both missed the world they were eventually forced to leave, but humans had abandoned the planet for the siren call of space itself. Humanity had outgrown its cradle.

They wrestled in their foreplay, tumbling over the bed until Crowley finally “pinned” Aziraphale, who looked up at with laughing lust-filled eyes. Kissing and caressing, they were locked with each other. Thrusting and moaning, Crowley smiling lovingly down at Aziraphale, who had his legs wrapped around the demon as he reached up to touch his husband’s face, his fingers lingering on his high cheekbone before the raindrop fell, hitting Crowley’s face before dripping down Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale laughed at the warm rain falling down on them. Crowley paused to squint at the miniature clouds gathered over their heads before resuming, pushing himself deep into Aziraphale over and over until the angel moaned with the pleasure. Their lips met again, water dripping off of Crowley’s hair over Aziraphale’s round cheeks. Wet hands roamed over equally wet bodies, the sheets beneath them remaining miraculously dry. Lightning followed as their passion rose, followed by the thunder that continued through their activities. Eventually, Aziraphale cried out loudly as Crowley thrust within him one last time, the storm he brought on responding in kind with a show of thunder and lightning. They lay soaked by the strange storm, Aziraphale feeling a kind of comfort brought on by the manifestation of his own desires. Another quick miracle dried them and Crowley rolled over to lay beside him, the smell of petrichor still evident in the surrounding air.


End file.
